An Ode To Walton
by ChokesOnCake
Summary: Diamond City has been destroyed and Walton Pierre is stuck at The Starlight Inn, attempting to cope with the ever-increasing burdens of living in the Commonwealth. Rated T for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1

I looked past the seemingly infinite amount of people in line for a spot at The Starlight Inn. Ever since Diamond City was hit with a massive wave of deathclaws and wiped off the map entirely, The Starlight Inn was the next obvious choice. While nothing could beat Diamond City's security, The Inn was a close second in terms of reliability and firepower. I heard turrets whizzing back and forth all around me. Several guards walked the length of the huge line of people. My father laid a reassuring hand on my shoulder and muttered something to himself before leaning down to my ear and telling me everything was going to be okay. I nodded absentmindedly, thinking about what the inside of The Starlight Inn looked like. I had heard from multiple caravans passing through my old town of Sanctuary that The Inn was almost as impressive as Diamond City. Of course, no one seemed to take advantage of this open opportunity, including my parents, until the last minute.

When Diamond City was still around, everyone who was in need of a bed flocked there. The only reason my parents didn't was because the walk was too long for me, and they couldn't get a caravan to take us along with them. When Diamond City was destroyed, The Starlight Inn made its availability known across the Commonwealth, and my parents decided now was a good time as ever to move to a safer, more reliable town.

Unfortunately, everyone else seemed to share the same thoughts.

I let my thoughts wander to the girl in front of me. She couldn't have been much older than me, and she had long, dirty blonde hair that went past the middle of her back. She wore a simple dress made of plaid fabric, probably something her parents had picked up along the way. I looked down at my own attire: a torn leather jacket, a dirty white shirt and jeans. I pursed my lips, realizing I probably looked like one of those infamous Tunnel Snakes from Vault 101 everybody seemed to tell their kids about nowadays. I ran a hand through my unwashed hair, wondering if I should speak up and say something to the girl. It's always better knowing your neighbors. Besides, I needed someone I could trust aside from my parents. I had no idea how things were going to pan out in The Inn, and I needed to prepare for the worst. Having someone at my back couldn't hurt.

I let out a short cough. The girl didn't turn around. I narrowed my eyes, wondering if she was going to be one of those "difficult women" my father always told me about. I mulled it over again in my head. Maybe I didn't need to know anyone right off the bat. Maybe it was better if I let myself get settled in for a few days before socializing. I nodded to myself and allowed that to overcome my unbearable desires to know who this girl was.

After 20 minutes of watching people get denied at the gate and finding some way to amuse myself with the passing guards, I finally tapped the girl's shoulder.

She turned to look at me. Her face was, without question, dirty. Everyone's was. The Commonwealth was a disgusting place. Then again, it's not like a post-nuclear warzone has its own personal janitors. She had a slightly rounded face and a small nose. Her hands carried a grimy teddy bear with an arm, ear, and button eye missing.

But the first thing that came to my attention were her eyes. She turned around, I caught sight of her deep brown eyes and couldn't pull myself away from the cesspool of traumatic stories that were held in them. I instantly saw regret, guilt, and fear. I saw a lifetime of abuse, from both her parents and raiders. I saw day after day of trekking through the Commonwealth.

Most of all, I saw pain.

I saw a young girl whose life was instantly ripped away when she was given birth in this horrid world we call home. I saw a girl who was raised on charred bloatfly meat, dirty water, and pipe pistols. I saw a girl who was used to sleeping on splintered pieces of wood, wondering if she was ever going to wake up the next day. I saw a girl who went to bed hungry; who went to bed afraid because her father wouldn't guarantee protection from raiders.

I saw a girl who had been utterly destroyed by the Commonwealth.

I stared into her eyes for a few moments before shaking myself out of my trance and outstretching my hand. "Hello," I sputtered out, overcome by her seemingly complex backstory. "I'm Walton. It's nice to meet you."

She looked down at my hand, then back up to me. Finally, she gave a sad smile and shook my hand. "Hello, Walton," her hand immediately went back to gripping her teddy bear. "I'm Ashlyn. But you can call me Ash." Her smile widened a bit.

I smiled back. "Well, it's... it's - uh - nice to meet you. I hope we live close by each other."

"Yes..." her eyes darted to the ground. "That would be nice."

I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant before a guard called out, "Families with children only, please! Families with children only! We advise those without children to head to Sanctuary. I repeat, families with children only!"

I knew what was happening. They were running out of beds. Many people groaned and reluctantly stepped out of line. One man refused, and the guards were forced to drag him away. Everyone else remaining in line stepped forward to the gate. I looked up at my father.

We were in the final stretch.


	2. Chapter 2

I stood anxiously, fiddling with a hole in my leather jacket. my eyes kept darting around: to the guard standing above the gate, to the massive tower tucked into The Starlight Inn, to the fidgety people waiting in line. But I was always drawn back to Ash. I wished she'd turn around again, so I can gaze into the galaxy of stories hidden in her eyes. They seemed to tell a story much larger than any of us; greater than any of our comprehensions. They shone a harsh light on the truth and reality of the Commonwealth, a truth she probably didn't want to know and never did, but was thrust into it anyhow. It was sad to see such an innocent soul exposed to so much. It made me want to know her, far beyond the acquaintanceship I had originally planned to guarantee a partner in case things went south. I wanted to be her…

Friend.

I mouthed it silently. It felt weird. I had never really had a friend before. My parents weren't my friends; they were my caregivers. I was highly independent and only needed my parents because otherwise, caravans wouldn't take me seriously whenever I attempted to buy 10mm rounds.

I felt the need to tap her shoulder again, but I didn't want to be a bother. I began to fidget like most of the other numb-skulled children waiting in line. Growling at my frustration, I reluctantly held back the urge to talk to her again. _I suppose I'll see her around The Inn,_ I told myself.

Minutes turned into hours until we were finally at the gate. I stood behind Ash's family as security guards searched through their suitcases and patted them down before turning them over to the secretary. I stepped up as a guard opened my father's suitcase and pulled out piles of dirty clothes and rusty silverware, searching for a potential bomb. Finding nothing, the guard stuffed everything back in the suitcase and handed it back to my father. A guard began feeling around my pockets, pulling out the 10mm pistol I had been carrying. He eyed me suspiciously, and asked through his masked face: "Young man, what do you think you're doing with this? How old are you?" He waved the gun around in his hand.

"Nothing," I answered matter-of-factly. "You always have to be prepared, don't you? I'm 14, for your information."

He glared at me again. "I don't like you, kid. You've got that air of mischief."

"Do I, sir?" I attempted to look as innocent as possible, which wasn't all that possible considering I was dressed up as a member of one of the most infamous troublemaking groups known to post-apocalyptic America.

"Yes, you do, in fact," He shoved the 10mm into my chest. "But since you're a child and with your family, I can't lawfully withhold any item from you or deny you from entering. But," he spit on the ground. "I'm watching you, you despicable rat."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Security Guard." I quickly pat him on the arm and jumped down from the wooden crate they had me stand on. I shoved the 10mm into my back pocket.

As I approached the secretary keeping tabs on everybody entering The Inn, I noticed she looked horrible. She had wrinkles all down her face, not to mention she was just as grimy as everybody else. She looked stressed.

"Name?" she asked wearily.

"Walton Pierre. My father is Joseph Pierre and my mother is Isabelle Pierre." I said.

"Great. Five Pierre families." she rubbed her eyes, noticeably tired. She jotted something down on a piece of paper before motioning to another gate. "Head on in. Your bunkhouse is Number 12. Welcome to The Starlight Inn."


	3. Chapter 3

I stepped inside the gate and was immediately greeted by a magnificent display. People bustling about, shopowners calling out to others to buy whatever they were selling, and a complex layout of wooden and steel buildings. Rickety logs held up massive multi-story buildings. I eyed a restaurant down the length of the road. People were talking, laughing, and sharing Nuka Colas together. The music of what was Diamond City radio carried through the entire town, and a quieter, subtler classical music played inside open bunkhouses. By the looks of it, each bunkhouse was built similarly, with a small entrance hall leading to a multitude of beds behind a steel wall.

I stood in awe of the incredible town before my father shoved me towards a bunkhouse with the number '12' painted in white above a splintered door. An old woman and a young man were sitting inside the entrance hall, arguing about the moral justices in killing Brahmin. I heard bits and pieces of their conversation as I made my way behind the steel wall to my bed: "... you can't go around killing Brahmin." The man chuckled and puffed on a pipe. "They're innocent animals."

"Innocent?" The woman scoffed. "I've seen many caravan handlers die because their Brahmin went out of control. Besides... good source of protein… don't want to be eating… or Bloatfly meat, right?"

"No, but… the point is, Brahmin are… and loyal creatures… Useful for caravans."

"What else would… caravans?"

"I hear… genetic synths… replace Brahmin in caravans."

"The Institute?! Oh God!... one of _those_ people…"

"My dear… taking this the wrong way… I'm not defending…"

"I bet… synth, too!... Spy on us… One wrong move… over to security."

At that point, the old woman slowly got out of her chair and made her way out of the bunk. I heard the man sigh, puff on his pipe again, and walk around the steel wall. He leaned against the cool metal and observed us as we unpacked. I had a bed furthest from the entrance hall. I glanced up as I placed jeans in the small dresser at the foot of my bed.

He looked like a humble man. He wore a slightly cleaner-than-normal tan vest over a grimy white shirt. Suspenders hooked into his black pants and went up over his shoulders. His shoes looked relatively new. His hair was done up in a pompadour look, something I hardly trust, but his expression deemed him a nice enough person to confront. He was clean-shaven, which suggested a fairly good barber in town. He held a wooden pipe in one hand, and breathed out a mouthful of smoke. My eyes narrowed at him, wondering if he would say something or continue to stand there.

He finally spoke up. "How are you doing, buddy? Enjoying Starlight? I see you were just admitted."

"Yeah," I answered cautiously, looking over my shoulder to my parents, who were too busy unpacking to take any notice of the man. I turned back to him. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. The name's Harrison. Glen Harrison. I've been in Starlight for a while. Shame Diamond City had to end the way it did…" He looked down at the ground. A silence followed. I stared at him, attempting to figure him out. He seemed like the odd one out; then again, I hadn't exactly met anyone else in town.

"What's the Institute?" I piped up after an excruciatingly awkward silence.

"The Institute? Oh, you don't need to worry about them, kid," Harrison turned his head back up at me, puffing another cloud of smoke. "Just know that synths are technologically developed; synthetic humans, if you will. Of course, the first models looked nothing like people, but nowadays, you can't tell synths from real people." He laughed nervously, his eyes darting around the room before settling back on me. "I had to kill my best friend because he was a synth. Don't be fooled, kid. You think you can pick them out in a crowd but in reality, you can't. They blend in, exactly how the Institute made them. You'd never know if someone were a synth until their actions tell you otherwise. You can never trust anyone if they tell you they're not a synth; why would a synth tell you they're a synth, and why would someone who's not tell you they are? It's a scary world - uh… I never caught your name?"

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter."

"If we're going to be in the same bunkhouse, I think it does."

I sighed. "Walton. My name's Walton."

"Nice name. It's strong." He nodded, absentmindedly looking down at the dresser I had filled halfway with clothes.

"Thanks?" I turned back to the dresser before a thought struck me. "Are you… buttering me up, or something?"

"What?" Harrison held up his hands defensively. "I don't know what you're talking about."

My eyes narrowed. "I'm sure you do."

He stood there for a moment longer before turning to leave the bunkhouse. Finished with filling my dresser with what little clothes I had, I took one last glance at my parents before exiting the bunkhouse.

The sound of classical music faded and a recording of Diamond City radio, the whizzing of turrets, and the noise of people filled my ears. I looked around me at everything Starlight offered, gave a small smile, and headed off to the restaurant.

* * *

I looked up at the sign. It read: "The Brahmin's Skull." It sounded more like a bar than a restaurant to me, but I was hungry for something a bit more decent than roasted bloatfly glands, so I opened the door and entered.

Inside, I was met with a full arsenal of people of different backgrounds and personalities. There were the irritating wastelanders who loved to tell tales of things they've probably never encountered; there were the caravan handlers standing around in corners, drinking what looked like Mirelurk piss; the people who came from small, off-the-beaten-path plantations and weren't used to large crowds; the huddle of guards around the bar; the group of misfits throwing Radstag meat around as if it were somehow easy to cook; and the nerds who enjoyed showing people their disgusting collection of Stingwing venom as if it would entice them or somehow ignite a need to speak to them. I looked around for a short while, but having no luck in finding Ash, I settled on ordering pickled Brahmin ears. I suppose the restaurant wasn't the type to serve normal, packaged food like Dandy Boy Apples or Sugar Bombs. "At least they have Nuka Cola," I muttered as I popped off and pocketed the bottle cap, took a drink of the basically-sugar-radiation-for-your-mouth and set to work cutting the tough exoskin of one of the four Brahmin ears. Although it was nothing like packaged food I could buy in Sanctuary, it was better than anything my father could cook or I could find from any caravan.

I was too busy eating the ridiculously tough but surprisingly delicious meat to hear someone call my name behind me. Only when I felt a hand on my shoulder did I turn around, fully prepared to pull my 10mm from my pocket. I cautiously looked up to the person's face and found - lo and behold - Ash.

I sputtered, turning back around to spit some cartilage onto my plate. I coughed twice before twisting in my seat again to apologize and confront her correctly.

But she was gone.

I looked around and, when I couldn't find her, deemed it a strange occurrence and went back to eating the hunks of meat sitting on my plate.

And there she was. Leaning on the other side of the table, observing me with a careful smile. I glanced at her patiently, waiting for her to say something. She didn't. We sat in silence as I looked deeper into the plethora of details hidden in her eyes. I could only imagine she was doing the same to me.

But there was nothing special about my eyes. No interesting, heart-wrenching, sad stories to be told. I avoided looking in my eyes in a mirror because I was afraid of what I would see. I was afraid I would see the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. I hoped that wasn't what she'd see, either.

I was tempted to look away, despite my longing to explore her secrets. I didn't want her exploring mine.

Finally, she spoke up. "You seem very observant, but when it comes time to actually use your observations, you fail to deliver." Her smile widened.

"Well, look at you," I said uneasily, brushing my shoulders. "I would say you're being very observant yourself."

"Hm," she gave her best thinking face. "I suppose you're right. Good job, Walton."

I smiled a bit before pushing my plate forward slightly. "You want any?"

She glanced down at the plate and back up at me. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I said, waving a fork around in the air. "I'm not gonna eat all four of these anyway. Go on, take one. They're tough, but they're good."

She smiled again. "Well, thank you, Mr. Walton."

"Ha… yeah…" I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. We sat in silence again. "What bunkhouse are you in?" I asked, hoping to spark some conversation.

"Bunkhouse 11. You?"

"12."

"Nice. It'd be relieving to finally have a friend." She took a bite out of the Brahmin ear and smiled at me.

"Yeah," I looked up at her. "A friend."


	4. Chapter 4

Ash and I began to hang out more and more. Most of the time we would hang out at The Brahmin's Skull, but other times we walked around Starlight and observed the constant bustle of people. It was a fairly new experience to me to spend time with one person so much. While I was with my parents prior to The Inn, I hardly stuck with them, and instead went off on my own tangent of doing things. I would normally walk and eat alone, because God forbid my father could cook anything decent. Everything at the restaurant seemed like a feast compared to his cooking; even the Mirelurk ribs with tato sauce tasted better.

After I said farewell to Ash late one night, I opened the door to my bunkhouse and was surprised to see Harrison sitting in one of the chairs, slowly humming to the classical music as he flipped a page over in a newspaper. He didn't look up at me, but said a blunt 'hello' anyway. I made my way over to an empty chair and eyed him.

He finally put the paper down and looked over at me. "Is there something you want, Walton?"

I shook my head. "You're just never up this late."

He shrugged. "I didn't know there was a rule against me staying up past my bedtime." He set the newspaper down on a table next to his chair, got up, and stretched. "I see you've been spending time with that weird girl… ah - what's her name?"

"Ash," I gritted through my teeth.

"Yes, yes, whatever," he said absentmindedly, waving a hand in my direction. "My point is, I think you should try to steer clear of her."

"Why?"

"Now, if you ask me," he looked around the entrance hall and behind the steel wall before leaning down to my ear and whispered, "I think she's a synth."

I immediately punched him as hard as I could in the shoulder. "She is not!"

"Are you sure?"

I thought for a moment. "She doesn't - "

Harrison rubbed his shoulder. "She doesn't what? Look like a synth? Act like a synth? Talk like a synth? Do you not listen to anything I say? I told you that synths are impossible to pick out from a crowd. Only her actions will shed light on who she really is."

I narrowed my eyes. "Don't try to be 'deep and meaningful.' It won't work."

"When did I ever say it would?"

I continued to glare at him. "You really know how to irritate someone, don't you?"

He shrugged his shoulders, smiling triumphantly. "I try." His smile faded as he wagged a finger at me. "But seriously, though. Keep an eye on her."

I rolled my eyes and put my hands up. "Whatever."

He patted my shoulder as he walked around the steel wall. "Just a warning."

I watched him disappear behind the wall before I turned my attention to the magazine he left. It read: "Boston Bugle: October 22, 2077. _Prosperous Miners Strike Uranium in Southern California._ " I read it over, amazed at how wonderful life was before the war 200 years ago. People could drive cars up to diners and eat without the need to watch for raiders. They used paper instead of bottlecaps. They made livings by working for other people. My eyes glanced over a headline before the meaning behind it hit me. I turned back to the page.

" _The Starlight Inn Bankrupt: Scheduled to be Demolished in One Week"_

I couldn't believe it. If the war had started one week later, The Starlight Inn wouldn't exist. This magnificent town wouldn't exist. I was likely sitting in what would have been a huge mound of rubble and debris. I shuddered. It was not comforting to think about the branches of life and how millions of other things can be affected by one event. The timeline of life could just as easily have panned out where Starlight didn't exist. I suddenly realized how small, insignificant, and useless us humans were to life. One wrong decision and everything can be altered. One wrong decision and we could all be dead.

I rubbed my eyes. I was too tired for thoughts like this. I placed the Boston Bugle back down on the small table and made my way around the steel wall to crawl into bed.

* * *

The Starlight Inn was, before the war, a drive-in movie theater. So it's logical that there was a massive movie screen on the lot. However, the genius people who established a settlement here didn't decide to include it within the walls. A building with such potential was left out of what could become the center hub of the Commonwealth.

Because of this, it was also logical to assume many children and teenagers in Starlight wanted to explore it.

There was only one problem. The security guards didn't allow anyone inside Starlight to leave without a good reason. Such reasons include: caravan handlers, death, and moving. Of course they didn't want to keep anyone who didn't want to live in Starlight hostage. But they didn't make an exception for scavengers and explorers who were used to wandering about the Commonwealth prior to entering Starlight.

Therefore, no one was allowed to go beyond the walls just to "disrupt the atmosphere of The Starlight Inn by exploring some God-forsaken building with no immediate use to the settlement."

Or so the guards said.

I had met a group of boys in The Brahmin's Skull who always talked about leaving the walls for a few hours to climb the screen. They looked like generic troublemakers. One was dressed in dirty tan pants, a white shirt, and a black vest. He was slightly taller than his brother and had red hair that was shaven on the sides and stuck up on top. The other was wearing a heavy coat and blackened jeans, had unruly red hair that hung in front of his eyes, and muttonchops with a goatee. They both had dark green eyes, and the shorter one had the aftermath of a broken nose.

I observed them for a week. They would toss stuff in each other's faces and make a mess at their table. The taller one would often take his brother's head and give him a noogie. That would always result in a small fistfight. It seemed like they had a good knowledge of how Starlight is run.

After my observations, I decided it was time to approach them and ask them if they knew anything about sneaking past the wall.

"What?" asked the taller one, who immediately stopped punching his brother's shoulder.

"What do you want?" the shorter one glared at me, his arm around his brother's neck, his other hand balled up in a fist and prepared to strike his brother across the face.

I returned the cold stare. "I want to know if you know anything about getting past the wall."

The brothers exchanged glances before looking back at me. "I'm listening," said the taller one.

I huffed. "I want to go in that screen building and see what's there."

The shorter one finally smiled. "Glad to know we got another troublemaker in this town. We thought we had weeded them all out already."

"I'm fairly new here." I stated.

"That explains it." the taller brother re-adjusted his vest.

"We're the Topiga brothers," the shorter one went on. "I'm Thomas, and this bag of shit is Patrick."

"We regularly sneak out of Starlight," Patrick put his arm on Thomas's shoulder. "It's basically our specialty."

"Where do you go?"

Patrick shrugged. "Anywhere, really. A lot of the time we sneak out to collect stuff or look at the stars without all the noise and smoke. It's calming and helps to stop the headaches induced from this lousy town."

"We also steal beer from raiders." Thomas winked.

I cleared my throat. "How, exactly, do you sneak out?"

"Woah, woah. We don't go around sharing that information to everyone." Patrick wagged a finger at me. "We'll tell you. For a small fee, of course."

I glared at them. "How much?" I growled.

"Let's say…" Thomas thought for a moment.

"200 caps and the information's yours. That includes a one-time tour." Patrick added.

"200 caps? Are you insane?"

Thomas smiled deviously. "We're businessmen. That's how it works, kid. You want out? We can tell you, but the information isn't free."

I rolled my eyes, feeling around in my pockets. "I don't have 200 caps right now."

Patrick pursed his lips. "Sorry, kid. No caps, no info."

I grumbled, but left the table. I walked out of The Brahmin's Skull and headed back to my bunkhouse to pilfer through the caps my parents hid in their dresser.

* * *

I walked back to The Brahmin's Skull, scowling as the 200 caps clinked against each other in my pocket. Patrick and Thomas had taken up the act of punching each other again at their table. I came up to the edge and threw the bag of caps their way. The brothers stopped, looked up at me, and weighed the bag in their hands. Their tolerance for each other seemed to increase tremendously whenever I was around or money was involved. They exchanged glances and tossed the bag around.

"Alright kid," Patrick said, running a hand through his hair. He was a bit more pretentious than when I originally left the restaurant to pay for their ridiculous information. Thomas snickered, pushing Patrick over. "Meet us in the back alley between bunks 14 and 15 at 10 tonight."

"Yeah, okay," I sneered at the brothers, unhappy I paid 200 caps to wait 4 hours for the information. As I walked out of the restaurant, I thought about how this could quite possibly be a scam. Their implacable need for money made them seem even more suspicious.

I opened the door to my bunkhouse, not surprised to see Harrison sitting in one of the entrance hall chairs. He was rereading the same magazine that had revealed the horrifying truth to me about what Starlight could have been.

"I'm leaving the city," I said defiantly when he kept quiet.

"Great, kid. Really good job. Those Topiga brothers sure are the ones to trust," he said casually with a harsh passive-aggressive tone. "What're you planning on doing? Climbing that screen?"

"No," I lied. "I just want to pick some irradiated flowers. You know. Manly stuff."

"Alright. Whatever." Harrison clearly didn't believe me. "Don't come running to me when a feral bites you. Oh, and hey," he said to me as I began to walk behind the steel wall. "Just to let you know… those guys may want a shitton of money just to take you outside, but they're not thieves. They're good on their word."

"Glad to know," I continued on my way towards my bed, but a thought struck me and I rushed out the door.

* * *

"Where are we going, Walton? I don't like this," Ash started, holding her hands out in front of her. I had her blindfolded and was leading her to the supposed "back alley" between bunks 14 and 15. "... You're not subjugating me to do anything, are you?"

"Er… well, you'll enjoy it," I answered, avoiding her last question. "And if you don't… I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you pickled Brahmin ears or mutfruit hash if the experience is really that bad. Sound good?"

She stopped. "You make it sound like it won't be a good experience."

"No, no, it will. Trust me. Just stay away from any feral ghouls or Super Mutants and you should be fine."

"Walton, where are we going?!" she demanded, waving her arms around in an attempt to slap me in the arm.

"Oi! Who's this girl?" Patrick, waiting at the end of the alley, motioned to Ash. "You didn't tell us about her!"

"Relax, she's a friend. She'll behave herself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ash's shrill voice cut through the music.

"You wanna get us caught? Shut her up!" Thomas drew a finger across his throat.

Patrick came up to us and dragged us back behind bunkhouse 14. I sat still, keeping a hand over Ash's mouth to prevent her from saying anything else stupid. I heard footsteps crush the dirt as a guard came over to investigate the strange noise. I held my breath. He looked around for a bit before leaving.

I turned to Ash, who had pulled the blindfold over her eyes. "Look," I started. "I paid 200 caps for this. I'm bringing you because I believe you'll enjoy it. We're going up to the top of the screen. It _was_ supposed to be a surprise, but… The brothers will help us out and we'll be on our way. I'll be damned if you end up ruining this for me. Don't make me regret bringing you, okay?"

I realized my voice sounded a bit harsher than it should have. Her eyes glistened as she nodded. I felt guilty for making her cry, but I had to say it. I softened my tone as I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You'll like it, don't worry."

I stood by as the brothers loosened a brick, tire, and plywood sheet from the bottom of the wall. The hole was very small; it was hardly big enough for someone to fit through. But it was the only way we could go. I was finally going to experience the outside for the first time arriving at Starlight. I crawled through the hole and patiently waited for Ash.


	5. Chapter 5

A very angsty chapter, to say the least. I finally have an editor for this story so if anything didn't make sense the last 4 chapters it should clear up now.

Thank you to GimpsUnlimited1 for reviewing!

* * *

I gripped Ash's outstretched hand and pulled her up from the ground. She dusted her dress off, a look of what appeared to be a mixture of agitation and amazement spread across her face. She gave me a knowing smirk. "Good going, Pierre," she punched my arm. "You got my dress all dusty."

"Not my fault you dress like a housewife," I snorted. She just laughed.

The two brothers climbed through the hole in the junk fence. Patrick was the first to stand. He looked at me and smiled. "A bit harsh, don'tcha think?"

I shrugged.

Thomas came through and stood up next to his brother. "Yeah, wasn't that a bit savage for you? I mean, look at her; she's just an innocent animal." He was soon pelted with punches and kicks from Ash.

"I'm able to take care of myself, thank you very much," she huffed. I pushed her playfully.

"They're just kidding," I said. "It's how two shitbags like them get their daily fixings of entertainment."

The brothers had different reactions to my statement.

"Yeah, that and the fighting ring up the road there," Thomas chuckled. "You gotta pull off to be a pretty good raider, though."

"Hey, now don't go making us leave you two out here," Patrick pointed to Ash and I. "Calling us shitbags may not be the best idea…"

"Oh, come on, Pat, don't be such a pussy about it." Thomas pushed his brother over.

The four of us stood in awkward silence. "Well," Patrick's voice finally broke through the frigid night air. "Go do whatever you gotta do. We'll be up at the fighting ring. You're welcome to join us; you just gotta look the part. Chains, black face paint, shitty pipe pistols. You know. The usual. Just be back here at the hole by no later than one. Otherwise, we'll have to leave you out here and you'll have to sneak in through the caravan entrance. Which, by the way, we all know is heavily guarded." Patrick added before throwing his arm around his brother's neck in a weak attempt to strangle him. He walked down the road with his brother before they disappeared behind a large pile of rocks.

Back to more awkward silence. I glanced over at Ash. "So," I started. "Come here often?"

She glared at me, but her scowl quickly turned into a smile. "What did you want to show me?" she asked.

I smiled back and grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the massive screen. "We are going to go," I pointed to the top of the screen. "up there."

"Oh…" she looked disappointed. I frowned, unsure of why she didn't like the idea of looking out across the Commonwealth.

"We can look around a bit first, if you'd like," I offered.

She just nodded. I narrowed my eyes quizzically at her, but didn't say anything. We went back behind the screen, where there were two small rooms. I looked over to her before opening the door to one of the rooms.

It was silent. The darkness enveloped us as I pulled her inside. I heard the crunch of glass underneath my shoe as I stepped further into the room. Then, silence again.

"Walton," Ash whispered. "I don't like this. Let's just leave."

"No, wait, hold on," I said, letting go of her arm and again stepping further. I almost tripped over a box, but quickly pushed it aside with my foot. I began walking slowly into the room, the soft light from the moon illuminating a portion of the ground. Otherwise, it was pitch black.

Suddenly, I heard the cocking of a pistol and stopped in my tracks. I turned my head around to Ash and saw she had frozen, too. She stared at me, not wanting to believe what was happening. A million different situations flew through my mind at once. All I could think of was protecting Ash if need be. I let out a soft "Hello?"

"Don't come any closer," a gruff voice from inside the darkness barked at me. "I know what ya want and ya ain't gettin' none of it! Thinkin' y'all smart to come here durin' the night, when it's dark and I'm sleepin'. Well, plot twist, dicks. I ain't!"

I ducked just as the owner of the voice fired the pistol. I heard the clunk of the bullet against the metal roof behind me. Ash gave a small scream.

"Woah, woah!" I yelled, holding my hands out as if the man could see them. He probably couldn't. "What are you doing? Why are you holed up here?"

"Tryin'ta butter me up, are ya?" The man cocked the pistol again. "Say one more word. I dare ya."

Despite how calm he sounded, I could hear his voice waver. He was nervous. I stepped back slowly, listening to the combination of my racing heart and his ragged breathing. "We don't want any trouble," I said. "We were just looking around; we didn't know you were here. Please, we didn't mean any harm."

The man seemed to be thinking for a moment before I heard him set the pistol on the ground. He sighed. "So y'all just a group'a kids, huh? No raiders for me to shoot? None of them dicks thinkin' they're entitled to my property?"

"No," I said, confused. "Who are you talking about?"

"It's none'a y'all's business!" He barked again. "How'm I s'pposed ta know if y'all're tellin' the truth?"

I glanced back at Ash again. "Well, we can't," I admitted. "You'll just have to trust that we're telling the truth."

"Why don'tcha start with why y'all're out here? What'cha doin' here, 'explorin'?'"

"I wanted to see what the Commonwealth looked like from the top of the screen," I said. "So, I found a group of guys inside Starlight to bring me out here. I thought it would be nice if I took my friend as well. She didn't want to go up right away so we decided on looking around a bit. We saw these rooms back here and wanted to check them out."

"Hm," The man seemed to be considering the authenticity of our story. "So y'all are from inside Starlight?"

"Yes."

"What're all y'all's names?"

"Walton. That's Ash." I motioned to her figure behind me before stupidly realizing he couldn't see me. "You?"

"E'rybody just calls me Ol' Man Brandon. I s'ppose y'all can use Brandon, if we're gonna be all friendly-like with each other."

Even more awkward silence. I wasn't sure what to say, but Ash spoke up before I could prattle off something stupid. "Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Brandon, but I think we should go now." She poked me in the back and took a piece of my jacket in her hands, dragging me outside. I thanked the man and quietly shut the door behind me.

I looked up at Ash. "What was that for?" I demanded. "I wanted to talk to him."

"You said we were going up the screen, right? Well…" she averted her eyes from mine, instead settling on a pebble on the ground. "I think I'm ready… I'm just…"

"What?" I asked her, genuinely confused on the subject.

"I'm scared of heights!" she blurted. I stared at her for a while, then began laughing. "St - stop it! Why are you laughing? This isn't funny, Walton!"

"You - afraid of heights?!" I couldn't stop. "I'm surprised!"

"Well, don't be," she huffed. "I am, so you'll have to put up with it."

"Do you wanna hold my hand?" I cooed sarcastically. She pushed me away.

"No, I'm just fine. I can handle myself."

I shrugged. "Alright, if you say so."

I headed off towards the stairs to the top of the screen with Ash following close behind. It smelled like dust and old rubber boots, of which I was not a fan. I breathed in through my mouth to avoid coming into contact with any more of the disgusting fumes. I saw the top of the stairs and ran up the rest of the way.

I waited for Ash to come up to the top, and led her over to the guard rails overlooking Starlight. The town felt alive; people buying items from shops, drinking with friends, or simply talking with their neighbors.

"It looks so happy," I said to myself.

Ash looked over at me, visibly shaking. She really was nervous. If she didn't want to be up here, why'd she agree to come? "What?" she asked.

"The town. It looks so happy. It's full of emotion and life." I caught myself staring into her eyes again. No matter how many times I saw them, they never ceased to amaze me how mesmerizing they were. Each spot in her eye told a different story, and after just five seconds of looking in them, I felt as if I could recite her whole backstory to her. "I - It's, um…" I felt myself choking on my words. "It's very… pretty. It's a nice sight; a nice break from the boring Commonwealth."

She nodded, looking out towards the town. She wrapped her arms around her body and sighed. We stood in silence for a bit until she spoke up. "What's your story?"

"My story?" I asked. I didn't exactly have a story. Nothing too interesting, anyway.

"Mmhm," she looked me in the eyes. "Your story. How you grew up, what your life was like." She gazed back out across the landscape.

I shifted from foot to foot, unsure how to phrase my 'story' without sounding too boring. I thought for a moment before beginning.

* * *

I was born in Sanctuary. My parents shared a bunkhouse that was refurbished from one of the still-standing houses from before the war. They provided care alongside the protection Sanctuary offered. As I grew up, I ended up distancing myself from them. When I was 10, I worked with the mechanics in the main lodge, repairing holes in the walls and filling cracks in the water pump lines. I didn't have too many friends; there weren't a lot of kids in Sanctuary. Because of that, and because I distanced myself away from my parents so, I was taught by the mechanics how to protect myself. One of the mechanics - Barney - I had gotten quite close to and who was practically my only real friend in Sanctuary had given me his 10mm pistol in hopes that whenever danger arose, I would use it to protect myself.

And I did. One night, Sanctuary was bombarded by raiders. They tore through the town, shooting settlers left and right. I was working with the mechanics when it happened. Three raiders rushed up to us. Most of the mechanics ran, but one, Barney, and I stayed back. One raider ran at Barney, gripping his arms and preparing to strike his skull with a wrench before his own exploded. The other mechanic had shot the raider on Barney, but in the process, was shot by one of the two remaining raiders. Barney raised his pistol, firing a bullet into his lower leg. The raider crumpled to the floor, a string of swears escaping his lips. The last raider took a quick shot at Barney before I held the 10mm pistol up to his heart and killed him. I looked back at Barney with hopes that the raider had missed him, but the bullet went right through his skull, killing him instantly.

I bent down next to my only friend and softly cried into his chest. I glanced up at him, letting my tears fall on his bloodied face. I put my hand over his still heart and said a silent goodbye before wiping my hand - covered in blood - over my forehead. I stood up from the lodge patio, crying as the raiders fled Sanctuary. I found our bunkhouse, pushed past my worried parents and silently wept through the night.

Sanctuary had been pretty boring then on. I still worked with the mechanics, but I was hostile and otherwise distant from them. Whenever they would ask me a question, I would answer in a despondent voice. I knew that the raiders had killed Barney, but the other mechanics had let it happen.

 _They let Barney die._

From then on, I was furious with them and was ultimately happy when my parents said we were moving to Starlight. I could finally get away from the people who had stood by and done nothing while their coworker was attacked and murdered.

* * *

I breathed deeply, shaking slightly at the memory of Barney. Looking over at Ash, I could see the thoughtful glint in her eyes as she listened with genuine curiosity at my story. "I'm sorry," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder and brushing my arm as she lowered it back to her side.

I faced her, still trying to calm myself. Ash, on the other hand, had apparently warmed up to the thought of being so high above the ground. She wasn't shaking anymore. I attempted to conceal wiping away a tear. She now knew who I was, who I am, and who I always will be. Barney was the first person I could truly count on, but now he was dead. I looked up into Ash's eyes for a moment before pulling her into a tight hug. My arms wrapped around her waist and I buried my face in her neck. I finally let the tears flow. Ash probably thought that, before now, I was a steel-hearted young man who couldn't be shaken by anything.

She now knew that to be wrong.

She now knew I was vulnerable and had painful memories, just like everyone else. Her grip around me tightened as I sobbed into her shoulder. Her fingers brushed over my spine as her hand moved up to lightly rub my back. She didn't say anything for a long time; she simply let me cry out years of pain and sorrow I had attempted to hide under a cold demeanor.

I finally pulled my arms away and held her back from me. She looked me deep in the eyes. I wiped my tear-stained face and gave a weak smile. "Your turn."

"My turn?"

I nodded. "Your turn. I want to hear your story." I sniffled.

She gave a small laugh and lightly pushed my shoulder. "Another time, perhaps," she responded. Her fingers ghosted over mine before she turned to walk back down the stairs to the ground.

I stood there in silence.


	6. Chapter 6

So this chapter's finally out. I was busy with schoolwork and didn't have much time to write.

* * *

After my initial breakdown on the top of the screen, Ash constantly danced around the subject of death of any kind. It was almost as if she didn't want to remind me about the incident that happened over 4 years ago. I tried to tell her that the memory of him didn't usually disturb me so much; it was only the fact that I had to vividly relive and retell the story. She, of course, ignored me.

One day, when we were sitting in a booth drinking Nuka Cola with the Topiga brothers, she expressed her wants and desires.

"When I grow up," Ash took a swig of the sugary drink. "I wanna be one of those watchmen. I wanna stand at the outpost right above the gate, and protect the city."

"You sure you're capable?" Patrick chuckled.

"Sure! I know how to shoot a gun…" Her voice wavered and she nervously looked over at me. What she apparently didn't realize was that by her pointing out every instance of death by hesitating to speak it, it caused me to remember him more than if she didn't. Case in point, by pausing at "how to shoot a gun" and looking over at me to judge my facial expressions, she was causing me more pain and heartbreak by reminding me of Barney rather than if she kept talking like she hadn't said anything wrong at all. I kept my face straight and drank from my Nuka Cola bottle.

"Er… Well… I'd protect it anyhow." She concluded, taking her eyes off me. I saw the brothers nod in unison in my peripheral vision, and I pursed my lips. I thought about speaking up to Ash, right here, right now, but I stayed where I was and kept my mouth shut.

"Can you even shoot a laser musket?"

"I don't think she knows how, Thomas."

"You think so, Pat?"

"Sure, they're big, bulky weapons; much too big for the likes of a little girl like her."

"I think you're right about that, Pat."

"I'm not just a little girl! I know how to shoot a laser musket!"

I instantly felt the heat from Ash's eyes travel back to me. I scrunched my face, willing myself to not throw the bottle halfway across The Brahmin's Skull and kick and scream at her for being insensitive. I knew she was trying not to be insensitive; it was obvious she was attempting to avoid the topic altogether. But the lengths she was going to avoid the topic in the first place was what was upsetting.

I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself to a point where I could talk to her normally. Ironically, talking about pistols and shotguns and the like helped take my mind _off_ of Barney.

Ash stuttered as she observed my facial expressions. Her mouth gaped as she thought of what to say. I finally shook my head and placed the bottle in the center of the table as I rose from the booth. "Hey, I'll see you guys later. I got stuff to take care of. Bed bugs or something? I dunno, my dad wanted help. Thanks for the cola, Pat!" With that, I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets and walked out of the restaurant. Was it always this stuffy in here?

I threw the door open and hurried off to my bunkhouse, but a hand on my arm stopped me in my tracks. I turned on my heel, prepared to punch the perpetrator in the nose.

Ash stood, still gripping my arm. I huffed, upset, jerked my arm from her grip, and continued to walk through the abnormally empty city. Everybody must be inside due to the weather. A sudden wind whipped my jacket up and above my head. I pulled my hands out of my pockets to bring the back of my jacket back down, but Ash grabbed hold of the fabric and wouldn't let go. I glared at her before slipping out of the jacket. A raindrop fell on my nose as I speed-walked towards my bunkhouse.

I heard Ash call my name repeatedly but I didn't stop. Rounding the corner of a building, I came up to Bunkhouse 12 and pulled on the door. Only thing was, it wouldn't open. I continued to tug on the door handle before throwing my arms up in frustration and instead turning towards the Inn's church. Ash came running up to me, jogging beside me.

I refused to look at her, and wrapped my arms around my body. I was already cold and my teeth began chattering. She held up my jacket, but I didn't take it. I didn't need her avoiding anything to do with temperature, either.

"Walton, please look at me," she pleaded, and I finally gave in to her. I stopped, turning around to face her. If looks could kill, the whole city would be up in flames. "Why are you mad at me?"

I didn't answer.

"Walton, please," she practically cried.

I huffed, waiting a good minute before deciding to answer. "Why do you keep dancing around anything that has to do with death or guns or any of that bullshit? Can't you see that by you doing that, you're hurting me more than if you'll just talk normally about it?"

"I…" she stuttered, unsure of what to say. "I didn't know…"

"Yeah, you're not very observant, are you?" I snapped.

A tear rolled down her cheek before she brought a hand up to wipe her eyes. She glared at me before throwing my jacket in my face and turning around. She stormed off towards The Brahmin's Skull. I stood there, watching her run off. I held my jacket loosely at my side as it began to drizzle. I looked up at the stormy sky, raindrops falling on my face.

I sighed, feeling defeated. I trudged through the now-muddy streets of the town as the rain fell harder. I came up to the church's door and stood there, staring at the chipping and peeling wood. I rested my head on the door, sighing again, before pushing my way in.

The church was one of the cleanest buildings in Starlight. It was one of the few things that could get everyone to work together. It was more of a church to pray to all the Power Armor suits and Minutemen than a god, but it was effective. Almost the entirety of Starlight went to the church every Sunday, including me. I had originally refused to go, but Harrison pulled me along one Sunday morning and once I realized it was more about understanding the protection the Power Armor suits provided than anything, I began to go regularly. The inside of the building had become quite familiar to me.

I sat down in a worn bench facing the front side of the church. All the Power Armor suits stood against the wall a floor above the benches, looking down on us and somehow blessing us with their presence.

The rain pelted against the church's metal walls, but the soft lights inside the church gave off a surprising amount of heat. I sat up against the wall and buried my hands in my jacket. I began to drift off, and wavered in and out of consciousness.

* * *

When I woke up, it was still raining. Somehow. Rain didn't come often in the Commonwealth. I lifted my head groggily to see the blurry figure of someone shaking my shoulder. My ears rang and I couldn't hear them, but I knew they were speaking. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. With my vision cleared, I could see a tall, thin black kid leaning over me and shaking me awake. I stuck a finger in my ear to get the ringing to stop. I stared at his face as I waited to get my hearing back again. As it began to come back, his booming voice shook me more than his hands did.

"... kid. Ha, you were just… Coulda been hurt. Come on… up. You can hear me, right?"

I nodded slowly, unaware of who this kid was and not wanting to really converse with him. He looked about my age; maybe a bit younger, and he had short, choppy hair. He wore a torn green jacket and tan shirt, and glasses sat loosely on his nose.

"Good. C'mon, that thunder shook your eardrums to the bone. We gotta get you back to the bunkhouse."

"What?" my voice sounded raspy.

He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "The church's walls aren't secure in the ground; they're tacked onto a foundation poured before the building was built. Each wall piece is separate from the other, and they can get a bit shaky under extreme conditions. And, of course, the sound that travels through it sounds a thousand times worse up close. Unfortunately for you, your ear was pressed right up to it when the thunder came. I reckon you might've lost your hearing in one ear, but I can't be too sure. Now, c'mon. What's your bunkhouse?"

"12," I answered bluntly, wishing to spend more time alone in the church than be back at the bunkhouse. Then I remembered the predicament that landed me here in the first place. "But… the door's locked."

He looked down at me before letting out a laugh. "Kid, the door wasn't locked; it was just jammed. Greg got it unstuck. But with chicken arms like that, I'm not surprised you couldn't open it."

I had multiple things running through my head at once. ' _Jammed? Are you serious? I couldn't open a_ jammed _door?' 'Who the fuck is Greg?' 'Chicken arms? Ooh, you're gonna get it now, smartass.' 'Of course you're not.' 'Where'd you even get those glasses anyway?' 'Are you serious with that jacket right now? It does not look good on you.' 'Who taught you to be so goddamn smart?' 'Good for you.'_ However, I didn't say anything, and sat on the bench in silence.

Apparently he was awaiting a response from me, but when I didn't provide one, he awkwardly coughed and stuck his hand out. "I'm Darrel. I can help you back to the bunkhouse if you want."

I waited for another couple moments before shaking his hand. "Walton. And… sure, I guess." I eyed him as he retracted his hand and waited for me to get up.

"Put your jacket over your head. And hold on tight to it. It's pretty windy out there."

I glared at him again. ' _Yeah, no shit, Sherlock._ ' "Thanks?" I ran a hand through my hair before I stood up. The world immediately started spinning and I felt sick to my stomach. I dropped back down into the bench.

"Ooh," I saw Darrel wince out if the corner of my eye. "You're worse off than I thought. Maybe… You should just stay here. I'll help you to the couch," He pointed around the corner to a ragged couch sitting next to an empty Nuka Cola machine. I nodded weakly, not in the mood to begin arguing with him. "We'll go as slow as you like." He extended his arm and helped me to my feet again.

I felt uneasy, and tightly gripped Darrel's arm as we slowly walked over to the couch. He waited for my every step, and wouldn't go forth until I was ready. ' _He's surprisingly helpful for someone so annoying.'_ "Church'll start soon, so we had to get you out of the bench. Besides, the couch is more comfortable to sleep, and I think that's exactly what you need right now. Don't worry; noise doesn't carry very well in here, so I don't believe the pastor will be any trouble to you. Just don't put your ear against the wall again." He chuckled before letting me sink into the ratty couch. "I'm sure your balance'll return soon enough. Don't worry." With that, he pushed the door open and walked outside, the soft patter of the rain audible. I groaned as I sank further into the disgusting cushions and brought my arm up over my eyes.

* * *

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, I could hear the faint mumble of the pastor talking around the corner. ' _Darrel was right. Noise doesn't carry very well in here. I never noticed.'_ I slowly opened my eyes and stuck a finger in my ear. I sat up on the couch, gripping my head. I went a good minute before I noticed the figure sitting in the chair opposite the couch.

I stared at her, bewildered. Why was she here? She didn't normally attend church.

We sat in silence before she cleared her throat. "I… I assumed you were here," Ash looked down at the ground. "Darrel was talking about some kid in the church and… are you okay?"

I decided not to speak. I shrugged, attempting to come off as unaffected by her presence. In reality, I was quite glad she was here. Maybe now she won't avoid the topic of weaponry. Besides, I had come to enjoy her company, even if she was annoying at times.

"Well… I hope you are, I don't know what I would… um, so, I brought you a Nuka Cola," she said, flustered. She reached into the crevice of the chair where an unopened bottle of Nuka Cola sat wedged between the arm and the cushion. She tentatively reached over, as if I'd bite her hand off if she got too close. I sighed and took the bottle, giving her a look that I hope read "thank you."

Ash fiddled with her fingers, looking around at the torn photos and paintings lining the walls. I looked back up at her, my expression softening slightly. I turned the bottle around in my hands. She was just looking out for me. She didn't want to hurt me. I was too hard on her.

I set the Nuka Cola on the ground and placed my hands on either side of me. Breathing in deep, I slowly rose from the couch, surprised when the church didn't spin out of control. I blinked a couple times before making my way over to Ash. I stood in front of her in the chair and held my arms out. She stood up hesitantly, unsure of what to do, before I pulled her into a tight hug. She shyly wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers grazing the back of my hair. I tensed up slightly, feeling my face grow warm, but I didn't loosen my grip on her.

"Thank you," I said into her ear. "I know you were just trying to be caring. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

"Walton," she brought her hands to my shoulders and pushed me away to arm's length. My hands moved down to rest on her waist before dropping to my sides. "It's not you who should be apologizing. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I'm sorry for assuming I was overstepping boundaries when I wasn't. I'm sorry for everything…"

"Hey, you shouldn't feel sorry about anything. I guess I was just overreacting. So, I'm sorry." I said genuinely.

She gave a small smile as a slight blush colored her cheeks. She let go of my shoulders and looked down to the ground again. "So, um… would you mind walking - or, I guess, running - with me back to my bunkhouse? Or are you staying here?"

I thought for a moment. "Yeah, sure. I'll go with you. I could use a rest in my own bed."

She chuckled. "It's still raining, you know. I'm sure it's a lot quieter in here than in your bunkhouse."

"Nah, it's cool. I'll sprint with you," I smiled. "Oh, but before we go, you should take this," I slipped out of my jacket. "Don't want that oh-so-perfect hair getting wet, now do we?"

"You're an ass," she gave a playful shove to my shoulder as she took my jacket.

"Hey, you're the one with the jacket."

"True. Race you?"

"You're so dead."

With that, I rushed out the door and into the pouring rain. My feet hit hard against the wet pavement as I took long strides in an attempt to increase my advantage.

Never would I believe that a girl in a dress carrying a jacket above her head could outrun me.

Ash reached the door of her bunkhouse a good second before I did. I slowed down underneath the canopy and rested my hands on my knees, trying to regain my breath. Ash exhaled loudly, dropping my jacket on the dry steps up to the door.

She then began chuckling. I joined in too.

Chuckling turned into laughter.

Laughter turned into an insane hysteria that had me up against the wall, gripping my stomach because it hurt from laughing so much, which only made me laugh harder.

Our laughter died out after a few minutes. I ran a hand through my wet hair and wrung out my shirt. "Oh shit," I said out loud, suddenly remembering something.

"What?"

I looked up at her, trying and failing to hide a smile from my face and a laugh from my voice. "I left your Nuka Cola by the couch."

She snorted and shoved my shoulder into the wall of the bunkhouse. I smiled at her before leaning over to pick up my jacket.

"Walton?" I heard her ask tentatively.

I stood back up. "Hm?"

She bit her lower lip, a light blush playing across her face. "Thank you." she said genuinely.

I looked at her quizzically. "Okay, but for-" she silenced me by placing a hand on my shoulder and lightly pressing her lips to my cheek. I felt my face redden as she pulled back and opened the door to her bunkhouse.

"Don't think too much about it," she said before closing the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

Wow, this chapter took a while to write, even though it was really fun to do so. I usually type and edit these chapters in my Java class, so with the combination of being on spring break and getting distracted all the time, it took much longer to write this than I anticipated it to. But it's out now, so I don't have to worry about it anymore.

* * *

I trudged into my bunkhouse and threw my sopping jacket on the side table beside my bed. My fingers ghosted over the side of my face where Ash had kissed me. It was an odd feeling. Sighing, I sat on the edge of my bed and took off my shirt. I wrung it out properly and used it as a towel to dry my hair. My parents were asleep in their beds; I bet they didn't even know I was gone. I shoved my arms back into my shirt and pulled the damp cloth over my head.

"You okay, bud? You look a little down," Harrison sat up from his bed across the room and eyed me. "Or is it just the weather?"

"No," I mumbled. "And I'm fine, thanks."

He lifted himself from his bed. I could hear his large footsteps draw near me, and I soon had a hand on my shoulder. A gruff hand, much more rough than Ash's delicate touch not ten minutes ago. I looked up at him. "Come on, kid. You can tell me."

I frowned. "Why should I tell you?"

"So you admit something's wrong?"

I narrowed my eyes. ' _Touch_ _é_ _.'_

"C'mon. Out with it," Harrison took a seat next to me on my bed. He looked over at me and smiled. "I don't bite, you know."

I sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. "Ash… kissed me on the cheek, just a bit ago. I… I don't know how to feel about it." I admitted.

He shook his head. "What have I told you about her? She can't be trusted. She's a synth. Just believe me and you'll thank me later."

"Okay, but say she's not a synth. What am I supposed to feel then?" I snapped.

"Kid, if what you're worrying about in the Commonwealth is how you're supposed to feel after a girl kisses you on the cheek, I am horribly jealous of you," He shook his head again. "But I think you have more important things to worry about than a girl who has a silly crush on you."

"Are you saying what I worry about isn't important?"

"All I'm saying is, you could find something more important to worry about."

I scoffed. "Whatever. You're the one constantly reading a magazine from 200 years ago, not me. Why should you be worried about what happened back then? I'm at least living in the now. Besides, what am I supposed to be worrying about? We live in one of the best cities available in the Commonwealth, now that Diamond City is gone."

"You could be worrying about your family," Harrison said quietly as he looked to the floor.

"As if. They hardly noticed the change in my behavior four years ago after-" I stopped. ' _Why am I sharing this information? He has no use for it, and I don't know him very well anyhow.'_ "Well, they…" I stuttered. "They don't pay attention to me much anymore. I'm sure the only reason they took me to Starlight was to secure beds for themselves." I said grimly, glancing over at my parents' sleeping forms. I pursed my lips, agitated. "What's it to you, anyway? 'You should find more important things to worry about,' says the one worrying about the morals behind killing Brahmin."

"Says the one who befriended a synth!" He nearly shouted. I sat there in shock, silenced beyond words. I wasn't sure how to comprehend the sentence; he had never said anything like it or with as much seriousness in his voice before. I scowled. ' _How dare he talk about my friend like that?'_

Before I knew what I was doing, I pushed Harrison to the floor and sat on his chest, laying punches on every inch of his face. He held his hands up to his face, but I ripped them away and abused his nose and temples. He had blood dribbling down his chin from his broken nose, and his right eye was bruised severely. He reached up and grabbed my wrist, and pushed on my chest with his other hand. I scratched at both of his arms and clobbered the side of his face, anger overriding any sense of judgement in my mind. In a surge of defiance and rage, I wrapped my hands around his neck and pushed my thumbs into his trachea as hard as I could. "Don't you EVER talk about my friends like that!" I shouted at him, my voice bouncing off the metal walls of the bunkhouse. I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me back, and heard voices behind me, screaming my name, but I kept my cold gaze aimed at Harrison.

He closed his eyes as he began sputtering, spraying blood from his mouth on my hands and face. "Look at me!" I shook him, my hands tightening their grip around his neck. He clawed at my hands, but I could feel him grow weaker and weaker every second.

A voice faded into my attention. "Walton!" my father put both of his hands on my shoulders and pulled as hard as he could. I wavered a bit as I listened to his pleas. My grip around Harrison's neck loosened, and I eventually let go entirely. I heard him gasp for air. I looked down at his neck, where dark purple bruises were already developing. He reached a hand up to his chest, trying to control his ragged breathing.

I kept staring at him in disbelief as my father shook me and yelled at me. My mouth hung slightly open as the finishing touch of the dull look on my face as my eyes wandered over his broken nose, gashed temple, and swelled neck. He opened his eyes and glared cold daggers at me. Although he couldn't speak, I knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell my father that I was a demonic child who shouldn't be allowed to wander the Commonwealth. He wanted to warn everyone to stay away from me.

But for once, I agreed with him.

I had subconsciously attacked him and attempted to kill him with my bare hands. And I would have succeeded, if it weren't for my father. I clenched my head between my hands and internally beat myself up. This was the Commonwealth; I know I shouldn't feel bad about attacking someone, but I couldn't help but feel that my actions reflected that of a raider's. They were brutal beings with a sense of hierarchy based on how violent one was.

Almost everything that could go wrong today did go wrong. I watched Harrison wheeze and grip his chest as he got up. He glared at me and stumbled past me, putting a hand on my shoulder and forcefully shoving me back. I looked down at my own hands when I felt a slight sting settling in multiple areas around the back. Dark, long scratches cut into my skin, a few of them bleeding. I wiped at them with the palm of my hand and instantly regretted it. The sweat from my palm irritated the wounds and increased the pain tenfold. I inhaled sharply, but the majority of my expression remained neutral.

Another sharp "Walton!" from my father drew me away from my internal thoughts and placed me right at the front lines of his string of insults and berating. He gripped my shoulders again and shook me fiercely. "What the fuck is your problem, boy? You can't go around strangling anyone you want to! I thought we raised you better than this!"

At that statement, I felt my anger bubble over the edge. I threw myself away from his grip, standing a few feet away from my now surprised parents. "What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with YOU?! You didn't raise me at all! The mechanics back at Sanctuary did; all you've ever done is sit around on your asses all day and take me here just to get beds of your own. You've never cared about me. You never noticed the change when Barney died. I have my own internal problems, just like every other damned soul unfortunate enough to exist in the same day and age of this post-nuclear world. I never was a perfect child, so quit acting like I don't have faults and then beating me to the ground when I show I do. Why do you care more about some stranger than your own son? It's like I don't exist to you until it's just convenient enough for you to jump in and seem like responsible parents. To whom, I have no idea. To others? To yourselves? To me? Well, I can tell you with certainty that I will consider neither of you to be responsible parents for as long as I have a beating heart. I knew from the day Barney died that you didn't care; why all of a fucking sudden do you care so much now?" With that, I shoved past them and out the bunkhouse, heading to the only place I knew I'd be welcome: The Brahmin's Skull. Tears fell freely from my eyes as I walked to the building, thankful that the rain finally cleared out.

Church had run unusually late today. Not that I minded; it meant nobody could see me cry like a baby. I had no reason to, and yet it felt so… right. I didn't know if it was because I had almost killed somebody, or because the inevitable severing of ties with my family had finally come, or because I was too stressed out due to everything that had happened recently to think properly. (Truth be told, I had walked down the wrong alleyway before realizing The Brahmin's Skull wasn't on the left where it usually was. A part of me was so delirious to actually think the door had up and walked off in the short time I was gone from the establishment, and that no, it wasn't me who was crazy, it was the door.)

I stopped walking to wipe the stream of tears from my face and think rationally for a moment when a thought struck me. Maybe I was crying because, for the second time in my life, I felt lonely. Truly lonely. I felt as if I had no one to go to. I had shoved almost everyone even remotely close to me away in the past hour. I put a hand to my right temple. Maybe Ash had given me a drugged Nuka Cola. Maybe she was really just a witch with ridiculously powerful kisses, and all she really wanted to do was manipulate me into falling in love with her so she could take over my mind and shove everyone even remotely close to me away because -

Wait.

A second hand had made its way up to my left temple. Something was definitely wrong here. Where had that come from? That small part of my brain that had seemed so insane when I was searching for The Brahmin's Skull's door didn't seem all that insane anymore. I was thoroughly convinced now that Ash was indeed a witch, and she had possessed my mind with her, albeit very nice, mind-controlling kisses. She's the crazy one, not me.

Or maybe Harrison was right. Maybe she was a synth and had injected some sort of nerve-killing serum into my cheek with her, albeit every warm, synth lips to destroy my brain cells and ultimately turn me into a war-bred killing machine, fit for the Institute. I excitedly jumped from foot to foot. I simply have to tell Harrison he was right!

Wait.

Harrison…

That name sounded familiar. It had an odd ring to it when I spoke it aloud, almost as if it was bad for me to do so.

And yet I kept doing so. I said it in every way possible until the very word sounded weird, down to its roots.

I realized I had begun to walk down the same alleyway where I had convinced myself The Brahmin's Skull's door was not present. I huffed loudly. Well, then where the hell could it be? Had Ash moved it with her witchy synth powers? She was up to something, but I didn't know what. I remembered she told me not to think too much about it… but about what? I furrowed my brow as I mentally went through a list of everyone I knew, instantly knowing that I was indeed not overthinking anything. Harrison passed over my mental search. Suddenly, the name Harrison sounded very appealing to me, like I wanted to get to know this Harrison guy more. I growled under my breath, jealous that he had such a great name and I didn't. I was stuck with -

Wait.

What was my name?

The hands around my temples returned as I thought long and hard. But realizing I had growled like a distressed puppy distracted me, and I sat myself down on the cold and wet concrete and spent the next five minutes making various animal sounds.

Around my fourth or fifth 'neigh,' my vision blurred. Realizing I didn't want to be around when the door decided to show back up, I stood cautiously, not wanting to scare it if it happened to already be here. I stumbled less than gracefully out onto the main street of… whatever town this was, making noises reminiscent to that of a hiccup mixed with a bark. My vision pulsed in and out of black and white until I eventually collapsed on the ground, deciding this was the most comfortable bed I could afford. I closed my eyes and my barks and hiccups faded until I was left in complete blankness.

* * *

I woke up on a white bed. I pat the cushions around me and glanced around. I faintly remembered this place; it was the clinic. Two people in dirty white coats were talking in the corner, one holding a clipboard and nodding along as the other pointed at it. The one pointing happened to notice me out of the corner of his eye, because he nudged his partner at motioned at me. She smiled faintly before setting the clipboard down and walking over to me.

"How do you feel, buddy?" She asked me with a warm tone.

"Um… fine? What happened?" I asked as I scrunched my face up, trying to remember what had happened before. I remember choking Harrison, but that was it. I felt a huge void between that and this, and I was uncomfortable with the thought that I really had no recollection of anything that had happened in that time.

She laughed this genial laugh that seemed to wash away all my fears. I didn't realize Starlight's doctors were so calming. "Well, let's just say a man happened to find you passed out on the street and was kind enough to bring you here. Let's start with some basic information. Can you tell me your name?"

"... Walton."

"What settlement do you reside in?"

"Starlight."

"Where are you now?"

"The clinic?"

"What's your friend's name?"

I paused. My friend… "Um… Ash?" Disappointment washed over me as I realized I had almost forgotten my only friend's name. What happened? Why was I here?

"Okay, great. Can you tell me who did this to you?" She pointed to my hands, where the long scratches were still visible.

"I think it was Harrison."

She nodded, as if she had already reached that consensus before asking me. "Walton," she said sincerely. "I'm going to be very frank with you. Glen Harrison is a synth. He's one of the Institute's newer models, but we think he was more of an experiment than anything else. We've concluded that Glen was built with a neurotransmitting toxin in his fingernails. This toxin is able to blur the brain cells together, in a way. The victim will go crazy and ultimately lose all motor and mental capabilities. They would be completely brain-dead, to put it shortly. Thankfully, you were brought to us in the nick of time. An hour more and you would have been gone."

"Oh" was all I could say. I was completely speechless. I furrowed my brow. "Wait, how do you know Harrison is a synth?"

The woman looked back at the man. He curtly nodded with an almost sad look in his eyes. "We knew Glen was a synth from the moment he came inside the walls of Starlight. The Institute wanted to use us as a testing ground for him. Of course, this was back when Starlight was a smaller community and raiders attacked us more often. Glen was to be used as the first model in a lineup of war synths. He was trained to fight fearlessly and without emotion, and while the Institute never told us about his little toxin secret, we're guessing it was to be used as a last resort melee weapon. But, Starlight grew much larger than the Institute had planned, and raiders stopped attacking us before Glen could be used firsthand. We were told all his offensive and defensive systems were shut off, but evidently they weren't. He was never meant to harm anyone within the city walls. He has since been…" she breathed in deeply. "deactivated and torn apart. He won't be a problem to Starlight anymore."

The way the woman spoke made it seem as if she didn't know the whole story. She thought that Harrison attacked me without any instigation, when in fact I had beat him mercilessly. But this brought to attention another thought: if he were a synth, why did he bleed?

I thought it best if I didn't tell the truth because they might feel guilty about deactivating a synth that hadn't attacked anyone willingly. Instead, I faked a story that could get me the answer I wanted anyway. "A… a few days ago, Harrison accidentally cut his hand with a knife. He's a synth, and synths don't have blood, right? But he did. Why?"

"You're thinking about one of the older models of synth. The Institute was experimenting with a beating heart that could regulate blood flow. However, they found this weakened the synths far below than they'd care to admit. So, they developed cells that could heal far faster than any human's cells. I'm supposing the reason for this was that their opponents wouldn't catch on to the fact that they were synths so early on, and face-to-face combat would be more likely. Glen's body is in the next room; we can demonstrate it if you want."

I absentmindedly nodded and followed the woman behind a door where Harrison's body was laying on a table. Synth components and computer chips sat comfortably around him. Tubes and fans were hanging out of a massive hole in his body that went from his collarbones down to his hips. I could see his metal inner workings and skeletal system. Not a single part of him was left untouched. They had gutted his eyes out and tore half his metal-encased database of a brain out from his skull. His mouth was open wide where his tongue had been cut lengthwise and several teeth had been yanked out. I saw his still heart sitting next to his face and my own immediately dropped. I regretted shoving him to the floor and clobbering him. I regretted choking him and forcing my thumbs into his trachea in an attempt to kill him. I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. One thing I noticed, though, was his nose was back in alignment and the bruises on his throat were gone. After only a few hours, the bruises should still be visible. Maybe that was why no one had figured out what really happened.

The woman walked over to the table and picked up a scalpel. "Watch," she instructed as she cut a thin line down the length of his arm. It began bleeding. "Now, wait a few moments and you'll begin to see the fast regeneration process take place." Indeed, in a short minute, the arm had completely sealed the wound with no hint of a scar. I stared sadly at it. "It's amazing how the cells are still active even after the main power supplies have been removed." She said with almost too much enthusiasm.

"Yeah… amazing…" I muttered as I walked out of the clinic.


	8. Chapter 8

This took forever partly because of the middle section and mostly because of the end section :P I couldn't figure out how to write what I wanted to write so I slapped some words together, they sounded nice, and now I'm putting this chapter out before I fuck it up even more.

* * *

I couldn't get the image of Harrison's metallic body out of my mind. I needed to get away; to drink a Nuka Cola, relax for a while. My mind reeling, I realized that my father used to be a major drug addict. While he's stopped now (not that I'd ever cared; he acted the same either way) he insisted on keeping the drugs until he could find someone suitable to sell them to. He had a lot of drugs.

He never found that person.

He had a whole bag of Jet, Mentats, Psycho, Day Tripper, and Buffout stashed under his bed. I'm surprised nobody's found it yet. He never kept it well-hidden and the corner of the bag always stuck out from under the bed. Maybe people thought that since he used to be a druggie, he wasn't to be messed with. Maybe people believe he's still a druggie.

I wouldn't want to mess with him, either.

I never knew what my mother found in him. In his earlier years, before my mother came along, he was a lot more experimental and a lot less careful. He was hauled off to jail for the day every day, waiting for the ridiculous effects of the concoction of drugs he inhaled to wear off. He wasn't very secretive about buying his drugs, either, and everyone in Sanctuary knew he was high, drunk, or both at any given time.

That's why not too many people were fond of me when I came along.

My mother showed up at Sanctuary one day. She's never told me how she arrived, where she came from, or why she was there, but she decided to stay and eventually found my father. Taking the drugs every day wore down his emotional state a bit, and he would get abusive whenever his addiction took a bump in the road. My mother stayed with him, though. Through the cuts, bruises, and broken bones, she stayed by his side.

Maybe my father is to blame for why I hate my mother as well.

Some people in Sanctuary tried to convince her to leave him, because they knew how dangerous and horrible of a person he could be. She didn't heed their advice, however.

Of course, my father told me all this when he was drunk, so it wouldn't surprise me if he sugarcoated his actions a bit. He was always full of himself.

However, at this point in time, I have to thank him for being so much of an addict. I need some time to relax, and trying a couple drugs seems like a good catalyst.

I don't particularly want to relax alone. Relaxing in the Commonwealth is a bit impossible either way, but it's easier to if you have someone by your side. With that thought, I headed back to the bunkhouse I had just left a few hours ago.

Was it a few hours?

Clouds still covered the sky. Rain puddles were still abundant on the ground. I don't remember how long I had been out, but it doesn't seem all that long.

I don't want to remember.

I continued walking to Bunkhouse 11, stopping only to peer at a muddy reflection of myself in a puddle. I growled at my ugly disposition, wiped at a stain across my shirt, and stomped through the water. My reflection became distorted and even uglier than before as the water rippled around it.

I came up to the door of the bunkhouse, smoothing my hair back. It would be better to get Ash now and run back for the drugs in case the whole of Bunkhouse 11 was interested in playing "what's in the sack?"

A short, spunky guy with gold studs in his ears answered the door. He was eating a plate of Mirelurk cakes he had gotten at The Brahmin's Skull. He looked down at me, a few crumbs falling from his mouth. He put one hand in his studded leather jacket before asking me, "what're you here for? You know you can just walk in, right? It's not like we live in the rich part of town."

He unintentionally spit out some of his food when he talked, and half-eaten crab cake bits landed on my face. I wiped them off disgustedly and scowled at him. "I'm here for Ash. I need to speak with her."

He took another bite of the crab cake before nodding, bringing his previously pocketed hand up to wipe at his mouth, and yelled to the inside of the bunkhouse. "Ash, your boyfriend's here! Says he wants to fuck your brains out till you can't think!" He turned around again with a shit-eating grin on and stepped to the side. Not like shit and Mirelurk cakes were much different.

I saw Ash walk around the metal wall of the bunkhouse, an indescribably agitated expression on her face. "Stop being an ass, Crowley. He's not my boyfriend." She punched him in the shoulder. "You do this every fucking time and I'm sick of it."

Crowley shrugged. "Not my fault you're the whore of the house."

She ripped the plate from his hands and threw it in his face. "Shut the hell up, Crowley! I'm not playing the fuck around! Quit treating me like a teenage sell-off stripper because God knows you don't get any!" The plate struck him right in between the eyes on the bridge of his nose. His face instantly scrunched up in pain. His hands flew up to his nose.

"Alright, alright, sheesh. Maybe you do need some dick to get you to chill the fuck out. You know I'm just joking."

"Yeah, well, it's not funny." Ash huffed.

I stood awkwardly just outside the door frame. The kid who had helped me in the church, Darrel, peered around the metal wall and readjusted his glasses before judging that the situation was none of his business. I watched his head dip back behind the wall.

Crowley glared at me again before smacking Ash upside the head. "It's funny to me." He rubbed the bridge of his nose again and took another bite of the Mirelurk cake, sulking back behind the metal wall.

Ash turned to me, an exasperated look on her face. "What do you want, Walton?"

"I, um…" I stuttered. "I came to ask you if you, uh… wanted to - hang out with me and relax a little?" Her eyes narrowed a bit. "You know… have some fun?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Okay, look," I leaned close to her and whispered. "I have a feeling you're a bit stressed right now. So am I. My father has a shitload of drugs under his bed - if you can think it, he probably has it. I think tonight would be the perfect night to get out of the city for a while and unwind. Let's ditch our problems for a couple hours. What do you say?"

Ash furrowed her brow. "I can't say I'll try anything you have, but I guess it would be nice to relax for a bit."

"Okay, great. Meet me by the hole in the wall. I need to run back to my bunkhouse and get the bag. If I'm not there in an hour, ditch the idea." She gave me a hesitant, curt nod before walking out beside me and closing the door. She turned in the opposite direction and walked off. I watched her walk for a bit as the soft moonlight illuminated the small curls in her hair. Her hands swung lightly at her sides and her dress waved in the wind from the breeze. If I didn't know any better, I would think an angel was walking the barren streets of the city in the late hours of the night. I eventually pried myself away and ran off towards my own bunkhouse.

* * *

I huffed, sprinting as fast as I could with a large burlap sack in my hands. Bottles and syringes clinked together, pills jumping around their containers and liquids sloshing in glass canisters. If I remembered correctly, my father also kept a stash of cigarettes in the bag. A part of me thought it was a bit rash to do this all of a sudden, with no forethought, but another part of me didn't give a single shit because I was too stressed out about my parents and Harrison.

Now that I thought about it, I was going to miss Harrison. Sure, he was annoying at times, and he got on my nerves more often than not, but he was a good sport about things and he seemed to know a decent amount concerning what he was talking about at the moment. For most things, at least.

And although I hated my father, because my memories of him were always filled with needles, vodka breath and the smell of smoke, his counterpart was my mother. She wouldn't leave him for me. She wouldn't leave him for anyone. Why I hate my parents had nothing to do with her; it was always him. He instilled in her mind that if she wasn't like him - an abusive parent with no morals whatsoever - she was in a very dangerous position. Whether she scolded me or threw a board at me or whipped me with one of her torn dresses, I always saw the same look in her eyes - regret and guilt hidden behind years and years of abuse of her own.

I never saw that look in my father's eyes.

So, I stole his drugs.

It might be a bit ironic, considering I had grown up believing the drugs were just an infected thorn on my father's side and that they were essentially a part of him. I'm basically taking the epitome of why I hate my father and running away with it.

In a burlap sack.

Just perfect.

* * *

I reached the wall with practically no air in my lungs. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, dropping the bag next to me and stabilizing my upper body by placing my hands on my knees. Ash listened to my raspy, disgusting breathing as she sat patiently. I looked up at her for a moment and held up a finger.

Once I had regained some of my breath, I picked the bag up again and looked at her expectantly. "You ready to go?"

She nodded. "What'd you bring?"

"I dunno," I said, shrugging and looking down at the bag. "Everything my father had is in this bag."

Ash only offered a smirk. "Great. I've never seen you high before."

"Likewise."

"Hey," she pointed a finger at me. "I never said I would try any of them."

"A 'no' usually turns into a 'yes' whenever drugs are involved," I shrugged again. "It's what I've learned from my father."

She looked down at the ground, flicking a pebble across the concrete. "Well…"

I gave a curt nod, although I knew she wasn't looking at me. "I agree. We should go."

"Walton-" she suddenly stood up, an unfamiliar, cold, steel gaze catching my eyes. "I don't think you should bring the bag."

"Wha-" I almost dropped the bag from shock, but I kept a firm grip on it. "Why not?"

"Because. The Commonwealth's drugs turn people into freaks like your father. Like Mr. Ol'-Man-Whatever-the-fuck into deranged, psychopathic, nervous people. They turn people like-" she faltered. A single tear rolled down her cheek before she shook her head. "I don't want to see you get addicted and turn into one of them, too. I wouldn't be able to deal with it if you did. You're one of the few people I actually care about and if you went, too, I don't know… I don't know what I would do." The cold gaze left her eyes and she looked down at the ground again.

A wave of realization washed over me. The bag dropped by my side and my arms hung limply.

She actually cared about me.

After a while, I spoke up. "Okay," I mumbled. "I'll leave the drugs behind."

Her head whipped up and a smile played across her face. "Really?"

I hesitated. "Yeah."

"Oh, thank you, Walton!" she came up to me a wrapped her arms tightly around my neck. My hands slid up after a second to return the hug. I mindlessly rubbed circles into her back, something I had picked up in Sanctuary from married couples and something I strikingly remember my parents never doing.

I actually don't think my parents ever hugged.

She seemed to melt into me, her weight precariously balanced between standing on her toes and leaning into me. She gave a small sigh of content and at that moment I knew, she was all I ever needed in a friend.

But I didn't feel like ruining the moment by saying she was practically the reincarnated female version of Barney, so I kept quiet and enjoyed her silent company.

She eventually pried away from me and pointed to the bag on the ground. "Where are you going to put that?"

"I dunno. I suppose we could hide it around here until we get back."

"You still want to go out?" she asked hesitantly.

Surprised by her question, I gave a short laugh. "Yeah, why wouldn't I want to?"

"... Because you're not bringing the drugs."

"I don't need to have drugs to relax. If I can talk to you, I'm fine."

"Oh. Okay." her smile grew wider.

I nodded towards the wall. "C'mon. We should go."

* * *

I sat next to Ash at the top of the screen, my head resting against the railing. I looked up at the glowing moon as the soft hum of turrets and the dull noise of the radio in the city lazily made its way up to where we were. Ash was right; it was better up here without the drugs. I felt extremely relaxed. It was like just being in the moon's glow instantly made everything calmer, more peaceful, and manageable. No problems, no worries. This was the way everyone wanted to feel in the Commonwealth, even for a split second. To spend it alone would be great; with someone you like spending time with? Pure bliss. I closed my eyes and smiled.

A sudden weight on my shoulder brought me to my senses. I glanced over. Ash had laid her head inconspicuously, while not unwarrantedly, on my shoulder. My body nearly went rigid; oh god, what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to feel? Should I just sit here or do something?

This was certainly not relaxing at all.

Ash felt me tense up and instantly took her head off my shoulder. I almost breathed a sigh of relief. She placed a hand on my upper arm and gave me a worried look. "Is something wrong, Walton?"

I shook my head, scrunching my eyes closed as if I were in pain. I was; emotionally, at least. "No, no, I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine." I could just as well feel her knowing gaze burn into the side of my skull. Nevertheless, I stubbornly kept my eyes closed. I was not going to look at her.

"Walton…" she removed her hand from my arm and instead pressed her palm into my jawline and turned my face towards her. "You can talk to me."

I shook my head again. I felt the resistance of her hand still on my jaw, practically forcing my head into this uncomfortable side position. "Honestly. I'm good."

"So… you wouldn't mind if I did, this?" I didn't know what was happening, but I was still reluctant to open my eyes. It was only when I felt warm lips press against my cheek did they shoot open.

"Or, this?" she brought her lips to my jaw. I sat there, nearly drenched in sweat even though the cool breeze from the earlier storm lazily blew through us. She turned my face to look more squarely in my eyes. "Would you?"

Stunned, I didn't do anything for a second. After realizing the extent of her question, I feverishly shook my head in an attempt to convey just how _perfectly fine_ I was with the whole situation. I even added in, "N-no, of course I don't mind."

Somehow I thought she would realize I actually meant the opposite of what I said.

This was _definitely_ not relaxing.

She looked my face up and down, trying to judge my emotions. Sweat was collecting under my arms and on the back of my neck, but she didn't notice. Her eyes stopped at something beneath my nose.

In no world was this relaxing.

I must not have put on a very convincing "help me" face, because her eyes flitted up to mine before dipping back down again. I swallowed the massive lump in my throat and dared a look at her own lips.

Oh god, she was _biting_ them.

Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. I knew what she wanted.

I was overcome with a surge of wanting and self-loathing. Any means of escape from this hellhole of un-relaxing was an open invitation to me.

With that, I leaned across and captured her lips in my own.

I swore I heard a sigh of relief from her as inexperienced lips moved against another. I could tell by the way she was kissing me that she had wanted this for a very long time. She didn't hold back, even though I was sure she could tell that I was using this as a means to escape.

But the fact is, I was enjoying it.

I didn't realize I was enjoying it at first. But when my hand snaked around my side and subconsciously slid into Ash's hair was when I knew this was something much more than a simple escape.

This was relaxing.

My mind cleared and I instantly became less tense. Ash noticed this and took the opportunity to curl her fingers through my hair, scratching the nape of my neck with her fingernails in the process.

Kisses got more heated, hands wandered, and minds reeled.

This was certainly relaxing.

Ash suddenly pulled away from me. Confused and just a tiny bit sad, I watched her as she got up. Instead of walking off, though, she straddled my lap with her legs and wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers finding my scalp through my hair again as they were a few moments ago.

I knew what she was doing. She expected this whole kissing scenario to play out longer, so she shifted herself to a more comfortable position. I personally hadn't expected it to go on as long as it already had, but if she wanted to make out on the top of a rusty movie screen, I presented no objections.

"Is this better?" She whispered, her voice husky. Is it even legal for someone to attempt to be this seductive? My thought was, yes, it was, as the Commonwealth didn't really have a government to be... governed by.

Neither did the rest of the country, for that matter.

Unable to form coherent words, I simply nodded and wrapped my arms around her waist tightly. I didn't want to lose this single moment of pure bliss and relaxation.

With that, she pressed her lips into mine again, with more force behind it than before. I was taken aback, and my head would've hit the railing if it weren't for her grip on my neck. She played with my hair and traced my jawline, trailing her fingers delicately down my neck to rest on my chest.

I wasn't even thinking anymore. Everything was just happening subconsciously. A few times I became aware enough to notice what I was doing at the moment. My hands had moved from Ash's waist to rest on her thighs.

Suddenly, she turned her head a bit, away from my lips. Confused, I gazed up at her for a good few seconds before realizing what she wanted me to do.

Swallowing yet another lump in my throat, I sloppily placed a trail of inexperienced kisses from the corner of her mouth down her jawline and neck. I kissed up and down her neck and throat before experimentally placing my lips to her collarbone. To my surprise, she let out a soft noise and her hands left my chest to grip the edges of my jacket.

Is this even the kind of stuff Commonwealth kids should be worrying themselves over?

Whatever it was, it was definitely nice.

I continued to kiss her collarbone and elicit more noises from her throat. I had no idea where she planned to go with this, but she obviously expected things to go pretty far. This was quite clear by the way she was inconspicuously tugging at my jacket and pulling it from my shoulders.

My hands tightened around her thighs before leaving them altogether and reaching up to pull my jacket back over my shoulders. I let out a small huff, feeling my walls go back up again and looked anywhere but her eyes or the small bruises that now peppered her neck and collarbone.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Walton, I didn't know-"

"It's fine," I let out a gruff response, which came out harsher than I intended. To try to diffuse the unexpected fire in my words, I placed one last kiss on her lips and leaned back again. Folding my arms, I continued. "I just don't think we should really do this tonight."

"Oh... Right..." She clearly looked defeated as she shamefully got up from my lap and returned to sit next to me, a deep red painted over her face. She wiped dryly at a few tears.

I stayed silent and kept staring ahead as I put one arm around her shoulder. "This is fine, though."

I felt her look up at me before she nuzzled her nose into the crook of my neck and wrapped her arms around my stomach.

This was relaxing.


End file.
